That’s
it? That’s all? I was expecting you to say something more like, “I’m afraid so.”

Why?
It’s nothing to be afraid of.

Okay, I guess….
Is this – I feel almost presumptuous saying this, although now I come to think
about it, I don’t really feel almost presumptuous saying this…. Okay, I’ll just say it: Is this heaven?

It’s the afterlife.

They’re not the same thing? No, I guess not. So is this hell? Or purgatory?

No,
those don’t
exist.

Wow, seriously?
A whole bunch of people on Earth are going to be really pissed to learn that.

No,
I don’t think so. Nobody here is ever pissed about anything. And of course
many of them won’t learn it – the people to whom
you refer – until they come here themselves.

I don’t think you can say nobody here is ever pissed about anything. I’m here and I’m pissed about being dead.

Are
you?

Hmm. Let me think about that…. No, I guess I’m not.

Try
something else. Some people are writing on the internet that you were a poor
fucked-up drug addict so of course it was only a matter of time before you died
of an overdose. Some are writing that it makes no difference you were clean for so long
– once a fucked-up drug addict, always a fucked-up
drug addict. How do you feel about that?

You said “fucked-up.”
Isn’t that bad? I mean, the f-word and all.

There
are lots of f-words.

But it’s a bad one.

No
words here are bad. Only human beings put bad constructions on words. Different
human beings put different constructions on different words. So what do you
think?

All my life I was given to
understand that fucked is a bad word.

Well,
now you can decide what to understand about it for all your death. But what I
meant was, what do you think about people saying those things about you on the
internet?

Funny. Post-life
humour. Wait, are people really saying those things?

Some
are.

Let me think
about that…. No, you’re right—I’m not pissed.

How
do you feel?

Well –
I’m kind of sorry for them. Sorry they seem determined to be haters. Sorry they
look for the bad, not the good, that they’re making the world a
worse place, not a better. Sorry they’re seeing things so, I don’t know, black
and white? So unforgiving? But it’s funny, I don’t really feel sorry in the way I’m used to. It’s more of an intellectual sorrow. Not a gut thing. And it’s slipping away – I can’t hang onto it. I just don’t want to think that way.

No.
Nobody sorrows here. Not really, or not for long. It’s usually just as you describe it: a momentary sensation that quickly
ceases once observed.

Hang on a minute though. What
about…well, some of those people committed suicide. They
get to go to the same place as the rest of us?

The
manner of death is immaterial.

Some people don’t believe that.

Some
people are incorrect.

So you come here even if you’re not buried in, what do they call it…

Consecrated
ground. Yes. The ground, the burial –
that is for the shell that housed the part of you that is here now. It does
not matter where that is put. It is an empty vessel. Those who claim that the
manner of death dictates the final resting place of the soul, only cause pain
to those who believe it. The living cause each other much pain through their
limited understanding.

Wait now. Okay,
so, forget the manner of death. What about the bad guys? Attila the Hun. Vlad
the Impaler.
Hitler. Goering. Guys like that.

They’re all here.

How can they be here?

They
died.

Everyone
comes here? Really everyone?

There
is nowhere else.

But that’s crazy! You’re telling me it doesn’t matter how bad you were on Earth,
you still get an afterlife?

No
one is completely bad. What is good in you, comes here. Some souls are not
very…substantial…after the dross is burned off.

The dross gets burned off?
What does that mean? That sounds like hell.
Everything I ever heard about hell, involved burning.

Did
you sense any part of you burning, coming here?

Well…no.

Let
me try to explain it in such a way that a newcomer can understand. You will
increase in understanding all the time here, but for now, think of space and
asteroids and meteors.

Okay….

When
asteroids or meteors enter Earth’s
atmosphere, some parts of them burn off. Sometimes, if the space rock is very
large, there is still quite a bit left to land on Earth. Sometimes there isn’t much left. Sometimes they do burn up entirely, which is not the case
here, but I merely mention it as something you may have heard. Or did you never
learn that, in science class or elsewhere? Some people do, some people don’t.

I think I remember learning something like that. What we called shooting stars. Bright and
then gone.

Yes.
It’s the same here, but in reverse. When souls enter this atmosphere, the bad
parts of them burn off. Instead of being momentary, the brightness is the part
that remains.

Well….is there really anything left of Hitler?

The
artistic part, and the animal-loving part. As I mentioned, some souls are not
very substantial by the time they arrive.

So I
could meet Hitler?

You
wouldn’t recognize him. Your own features are not as they were, either.
Differentiation ceases here, over time. Every soul here loves all other souls
equally.

I don’t love Hitler.

Don’t you?

I’m thinking about that. I
don’t know. I do love everything here, though.

And
Hitler is here.

Then I guess I love Hitler?

The
Hitler who is here is entirely lovable. As are you. As is Goering, as is
Gandhi.

Wasn’t Gandhi always lovable anyway?

Not
to the British rulers.

But they’re here now. Aren’t they?

They
are.

So they love Gandhi now?

They
do. And Gandhi loves them.

Didn’t he always, though? Being such a pacifist and all.

Maybe
yes, and maybe no.

It’s very peaceful here.Yes.

I like it.

I’m glad.

I’m glad I came.

I’m
glad you came, too.

And everyone comes here?

Yes.

My wife and my
children? When they die?

Yes.

Will I know them? Will they
know me?

Differentiation
ceases here over time. You will know each other as beloved souls.

Didn’t you say that everyone here is a beloved soul?

Yes.
You will begin to feel it soon.

I think I feel it a little
already.

Most
souls are quick studies. Especially the more substantial ones, like yours.

What were we just talking
about?

Earthly
things. You have no need of them anymore.

No, I don’t, do I? I thought….I’m forgetting what I used to think. I think I thought death would be
horrible. No….I think I was afraid of it. Or maybe I was just afraid of the pain I
thought would go with it. How did I die? I think….I
had some drugs, right? I thought I was
just going to have a good time. I was just going to get a little high, trip a
little. Then it was too much. It was too much, right?

It
was too much for your body.

It didn’t hurt, coming here.

I’m
glad. Some people hurt before they get here.

I didn’t.
Well – not in my body.

Your
mind hurt. Your soul.

Yes. I felt guilty and
embarrassed and ashamed and weak, but I couldn’t
resist in spite of all that. It’s funny – all those feelings are
just things I can imagine in my mind, but I don’t
feel them at all now. But then….yes. My mind hurt. My soul.

They
don’t
now.

No. They don’t. Is this all the afterlife is? An absence of pain?

Is
that all you are experiencing?

No….no.

What
are you experiencing?

I would say….I would say joy. Deep joy. Pleasure. Delight. Peace.

Yes.
You have arrived. Welcome home, beloved.

Mary
Steerhas been writing since before she
could, well, write. She started by dictating (very short) stories to her
kindergarten teacher. Many of these early works were about animals, such as
cats and koalas. These days her stories are quite a bit longer and rather more
involved, though occasionally they feature one or more cats. More of Mary’s
work may be found at her website:marysteer.com

I attended a Min-Body-Spirit and Psychotherapy conference recently, and a speaker reminded us we are all spiritual beings having (temporary) human experiences... Thanks for the lovely story, Mary. David :)

Brian Henry has been a book editor, writer, and creative writing instructor for more than 25 years. He teaches creative writing at Ryerson University. He also leads weekly creative writing courses in Burlington, Mississauga, Oakville and Georgetown and conducts Saturday workshops throughout Ontario. His proudest boast is that he has helped many of his students get published.